Of Christmas Cake and Nightmares and Walking Disasters
by LittleBabeBlue
Summary: Ms. Potter and Sirius talk about not being able to sleep. And cake. And perhaps the most important thing of all. Written by OrangeButter


of christmas cake and nightmares and walking disasters

Rated: T

Characters: Sirius Black

Genre: Angst/Family

Description: Ms. Potter and Sirius talk about not being able to sleep. And cake. And perhaps the most important thing of all.

Sirius Black is a disaster.

He knows this, his mother knows this, bloody hell, his whole _family_ knows this. Damn it. He's brooding again. He's been doing that a lot recently, ever since his mother kicked him out and the whole debacle with Moony and the realization just last month that his snot-nosed little brother who had pranked Bellatrix with him, and worshiped him, and looked at the stars with him those humid summer nights, was about two steps away from joining Voldemort's crowd. And his family would probably pat Regulus on the back, because that's how _they_ measured accomplishment.

It's Christmas time, and the Potter mansion is absolutely lovely, so really, he _does_ feel bad about being all broody, and skulking in the kitchen. He's not really a smoker, but _damn,_ if that cigarette doesn't feel great pressed against his lips, watching the smoke drift up to the ceiling, because right now, he's a disaster, and damn it, he's going to _look_ like a disaster. Damn twinkly lights and snow- it's pissing him off to look at it, all perfect in the grey of the early morning.

He's not really doing anything, just sitting there, smoking, and brooding and generally feeling like shit when he hears soft footsteps coming into the kitchen. He jumps up, quickly stubbing out the cigarette.

 _What in the bloody name of Merlin's left…_

"Sirius?" It's James mother, and her eyes are puffy, and she's squinting at him like she doesn't quite believe he's real. Well, no shit, it's about arse o'clock in the morning, and no one's supposed to be up but him.

"Um… Hi, Ms. Potter. Sorry."

Her smile is understanding however. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah." He doesn't want to elaborate: he doesn't need any more goddamn _nightmares_ or rehashes of nightmaresabout that night he left. Sirius Black doesn't get any _bloody_ nightmares; he causes them.

Damn, that's a good line. He'll have to trademark that, when he's famous.

"Me either." She pulls the robe closer around her body before smiling rather mischievously at Sirius. "I've got some butterbeer and a Christmas cake. What do you say that we try a sample?"

"It's…" He's going to say fine, before he realizes that he really doesn't want to go back upstairs, and besides, he's just realized he's bloody hungry. Supper feels like a long time ago. Ms. Potter is smiling expectantly at him. He just nods, and sits down.

She pulls the cake and beverage out of the cupboard, and uses magic to cut off two rather large slices for Sirius and herself. That cake looks wonderful, but Sirius doubts that Ms. Potter made it. She's told Sirius several times she's a walking disaster in the kitchen, and James has confirmed it. Indeed, James had shivered at whatever memory had come up about her cooking. Apparently it had something to do with green ferrets, and that was all Sirius could get out of his best mate.

With a flourish of her wand, the cake is on the table, and Ms. Potter sinks gracefully into her chair. Indeed, Ms. Potter always does everything gracefully. Sometimes it's hard for Sirius to believe that James, who once tripped over absolutely _nothing -_ no matter how hard James tried to protest that Snivellus's bag had been in the way- is related to her.

"Mmm.. Sirius you better breathe not one _word_ of this to Mr. Potter."

"Why not?"

"Poor fool thinks I'm finally going on a diet. You know how obsessed with health he is. As an early Christmas present, I agreed to try eating healthier. I didn't have the heart to tell him that after he goes to bed, and I tell him I just need a moment longer, that I'm really stealing James's stash of Honeydukes."

"You _know_ where he hid it?"

She smiled. "Of course. Do you really think he got his sneakiness from his father? _Honestly,_ Sirius."

Sirius takes a bite. The cake _is_ good. Ms. Potter and Sirius sit for a while in companionable silence as the cake slowly disappears from their plates.

"Second piece?"

"Yes, please."

"So… you've been having nightmares?" She's not smiling now, but rather observing him with too sharp grey eyes. They're a lot sharper than James are, or Mr. Potter's. Sirius would think it was a mother thing, except his mother had never looked at him with the same concern or interest.

And they were back to his bloody mother again. Could he not spend _one_ night not thinking about her?

"No. I just… James snores. He's like an elephant. Can't get any rest." Sirius has never understood why James insists they room together seeing that the Potter mansion is _massive._ But he's never asked why, and despite his teasing of James being afraid of the dark, he doesn't mind it so much.

"Well, I asked you because… I have." She takes a deep breath and sets down her fork. Sirius isn't sure what to do next. He's not used to people's feelings, hell, he's not used to his own feelings, brooding and cigarette smoking aside.

"Sorry, Sirius. I… It's nothing, dear."

"Ms. Potter…"

"I just… I feel like I'm going mad. Mr. Potter doesn't want to talk about it…"

"It's okay."

"I just… I couldn't sleep and.."

"Ms. Potter…" Sirius didn't want to hear this.

But a dam had burst. Ms. Potter took a deep breath. "You and James must have heard about the Stibbons family in the news."

Sirius's heart sinks. The Stibbons family. They had been popular, well respected. And Muggles.

"Well, the Aurors haven't released the details. But… Mr. Potter told me. You know how stoic he is, and he just come home, his face completely white. It was… Sirius, it was _gruesome._ Those… poor people." Her voice is a shaky whisper and her face has gone bone-white. "They… they could barely tell they _were_ people by the time the Aurors arrived. He said… their little girl. He found her blanket, just lying by the side of her bed. I knew Ms. Stibbons, met their daughter. She _loved_ that blanket, carried it around everywhere. It was… _covered…_ in blood. And the grandmother…" She broke herself off with a shudder. "I really shouldn't be telling you this, Sirius. I'm sorry."

Sirius felt hollow. No, he didn't want to feel hollow.

Angry. _That_ was better.

"Was the murder connected to… Were they the ones…"

"Not officially. But…" She smiled wanly. "It's not hard to guess."

Yep. Definetely anger. And now all of the sudden, Sirius felt a dam inside of _him_ burst _,_ and the words that he had been holding inside for months now rushed out. "She wanted me to join, you know. That's why I left."

"What?"

"That's why I ran away. Came here. My mother, she told me, they'd give me one last chance to prove that I was a true heir to the House of Black. All I had to do was pledge myself to him and the Death Eaters. That was it and _everything" -Traitor, no sun of mine, disgrace, disaster-_ " would be forgiven."

"I told her to go to hell of course. And then it turned nasty. So I apparated. And that's why I'm here. Because my mother and my whole family is psychotic. Because my whole family thinks the sort of thing that happened to the Stibbons is okay. Merlin, how screwed up _am_ I? What sort of family thinks that this is okay? What sort of mother tells her son that the only way he's worthy is if he joins a group that wants to wipe every Muggle off the planet? What… " And Sirius realized he had an audience again. He broke off.

"Sirius…"

"Damn. You weren't supposed to hear that."

She looks at him again with those sharp grey eyes. "I'm glad I did." Sirius sits up straighter in his chair. This was not the response he was expecting.

"Sirius, you're very brave. To stand up to your family…"

Sirius can't help the words tumbling out next. "But that's just the thing. The people who tortured the Stibbons. Some of them were probably my family. And their _filthy_ blood is tumbling through my veins. It doesn't matter that I'm brave. I'm still a Black. That… the Stibbons… everything is still a part of me."

Ms. Potter leaned forward and suddenly her face was full of urgency. " Sirius, you are _not_ your family. _They_ are not you. You've proved that again and again and again. You're _good,_ Sirius. I've known you for five years. You're a _good_ person, Sirius Black."

He's a disaster. He knows this, whole _family_ knows this. But looking at Ms. Potters too-bright face… he can't argue with her. He suddenly feels tired.

Ms. Potter leans back in her chair.

" You know… when you came…I thought something like that had happened. And you know…you're not exactly quiet when you sleep. Don't tell James, but every so often, I come to check on you too."

Sirius decides to not point out that that's rather creepy. He's suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion too, his bones just feel _heavy,_ and right now, he'd love nothing better than to go to sleep.

" Sirius… there's a war coming. In fact, it's already going on. But… people are going to have to make choices. Which side they're on. Your family has already made theirs. And I think you've made yours. And I've most definitely made mine. I'll never be able to get up without seeing Pamela Stibbon's face in my mind."

Sirius just nods.

"I'm sorry to burden you with all of this. And at Christmas-time too. But Sirius…" She seems about to say one thing, but she abruptly cuts off. "You're tired. You look like you're about to fall asleep."

"No… I'm fine."

"No." She shakes her head. " I think… Sirius, you know you can _talk_ to me, right?"

"Of course."

She looks like she wants to say something else, wants to press the point, but she cuts off again. "Good. I… I should probably try to get some sleep, too. Merlin knows that Mr. Potter is going to want to torture me with morning jogs and I can't fall asleep halfway through a second time. Go back to bed, Sirius. I'll clean up here."

Sirius gets up. He feels like he should say something, say _anything,_ but Ms. Potter's already waving her wand and cleaning up. So he just leaves.

He's a disaster. He's a traitor. He's broken, and messy, and sometimes feels like he's never going to be able to gather up the pieces, the pieces that scrape and cut.

But Pamela Stibbon's face is in his mind.

He shivers. Suddenly, being a disaster doesn't feel half-bad.


End file.
